


The Best Part is Heading Home

by RinAngel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, American College AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Running Away, Sappy, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 10:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30137907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel
Summary: Jisung spends sixteen hours on a train from Atlanta to New York City, leaving his abusive father and heading towards the only thing that matters.
Relationships: Na Jaemin/Park Jisung
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	The Best Part is Heading Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a kick of late-2000's acoustic emo nonsense, don't mind me. [Song inspiration, voila!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XR560wLd8Nc)
> 
> Twitter @AO3RinAngel

The air is crisp, the wind refreshingly cool on Jisung’s face as he steps out of his cab in front of the train station. He can’t remember the last time he’s been out in the middle of the night, when most of the world is asleep, but there’s something relaxing about it. Despite the cold, he decides to wait outside the train station for just a few minutes longer. After the misery of being locked in his room the last few weeks, released only for meals with his family and daily trips to church, after listening to his parents cry and rage and wonder where they went wrong… the peaceful outdoors is something he’ll never take for granted again.

Every person who passes him seems to make eye contact and then quickly look away, and he can’t exactly blame them. He knows he looks terrible— he tilts his head down, trying to brush his hair over his swollen eye.

_ “He hit you? Jisung— he can’t do that. We need to get you out of there. Come stay with me. I’ll protect you.” _

_ “I don’t know if I can, Jae. I don’t have any friends who can drive me all the way back to New York. I don’t have much money. My parents took my phone and my laptop and even my photo ID, so I can’t even buy myself a plane ticket back— I’m only calling you now because my parents went out and forgot to lock their bedroom.” _

_ “Then I’ll send you money! I’ll send you everything in my savings, if that’s what you need! Just— Jisung, please—” _

Jisung squares his shoulders at a particularly cold burst of wind, finally picking his suitcase up and preparing to go inside. It’s hard to think about what had come next, the bitter sound of Jaemin’s wordless sobs.

He pulls out his phone, glancing at the time— just past 11 PM, the train is boarding soon. He’ll go in, get himself settled on the train, and once then once he’s moving,  _ finally,  _ he’ll give Jaemin a call and let him know he’s still alive.

//

Georgia had been a stifling place to grow up as a kid who had always felt different. Not Atlanta, where he’d heard that things were progressive and people were liberal— no, it was a small town, a small  _ school,  _ with a graduating class of less than one hundred. It went without saying that he was the only Asian kid (everyone called him Andy, because for some reason  _ Jisung  _ seemed too difficult), and as far as he could tell, he was the only gay kid, too. No matter what he could think to do, from joining sports teams to participating in the youth group at his church to going on dates with girls (girls his parents picked, of course), he always felt like a square peg being jammed into a round hole.

He’d wanted to leave more than anything. His parents had wanted him to attend LaGrange or Covenant, somewhere nearby, somewhere  _ Christian,  _ and he’d had to quite literally  _ beg  _ for the chance to go to New York City for even a year. He’d wanted to study international business, after all, and where better than the country’s melting pot? Where better to find himself than somewhere where he could meet people like  _ himself? _

He’d met Jaemin his very first weekend on campus, at the school activity fair— manning the club booth for the campus LGBTQ Student Association. He was handing out pamphlets, buttons, and rainbow lollipops;  _ WE’RE HERE, WE’RE QUEER,  _ declared his T-shirt in unapologetic, bold all-caps.

He’d found himself wondering, without even knowing his name, what kind of life this man had led up until now. He didn’t seem uncomfortable or ashamed, greeting everyone with eye contact and a smile. Did his parents know that he was here, that he was spending his Saturday handing out gay pride buttons? Thinking about it had made Jisung’s stomach flutter— with excitement, or with anxiety, he truly couldn’t tell.

At last, gathering his nerve, he’d stepped up to the booth. Jaemin looked right at him and smiled, and— he was cute,  _ really  _ cute, so cute that Jisung’s mouth went completely parched and he felt tongue-tied.

“Hi! Do you want an information pamphlet about our first meeting? It’s this Wednesday, 8 PM, in the student center. There will be free pizza!” Jisung hadn’t been able to answer at first, but Jaemin didn’t seem bothered, almost as though he’d expected Jisung to be shy. “My name’s Jaemin Na. I’m the club secretary. Anybody and everybody is welcome. Club meetings are safe spaces.”

Jisung had only ever heard the term  _ safe space  _ before, he’d never actually seen one. His heart had pounded against his sternum as he finally assembled the words in his mind.

“Are there a lot of members?”

Jaemin smiled again. Jisung’s heart melted.

“We get bigger every year! We do lots of events— movie screenings, Q&A panels. A drag show in the spring. It’s a lot of fun.” He’d tilted his head to the side, seeming to size Jisung up, and Jisung found himself wondering if Jaemin liked what he saw. “I hope I see you at the meeting, if you can make it.”

Jisung  _ did  _ make it, and it was a good thing that he did. That first meeting in the student center, surrounded by students of all different genders, races, and sexualities, was probably the first time in his life that he hadn’t felt like  _ the odd one out. _ He’d entered feeling tiny and insignificant and uncertain, with his pamphlet wrung out in his hands, and he left feeling like a weight had lifted off of him, with the “pride” pin he’d stuck in his pocket now affixed to his backpack.

Just outside the student center, he’d felt a light bump against his shoulder, and he turned quickly to apologize— only to fall transfixed by those eyes again, so dark and deep. “Oh, hey! I’m glad you made it!” Jaemin chirped, a grin coming to his face. “By the way, I don’t think I caught your name?”

Jisung smiled too, without even a conscious effort. And when he opened his mouth, about to introduce himself as  _ Andy,  _ he hesitated, reformatted. “Ah— it’s Jisung Park.”

“Oh, shit! Do you speak Korean?” Jaemin seemed overjoyed at the prospect, and though that made Jisung somehow feel even more shy, he switched over to the language he rarely used outside of his family as he responded:

“I understand more than I speak. I wish I was more fluent, but…”

“That’s cool! You can practice with me whenever! I’m already a volunteer conversation partner for the beginner-level Korean courses here, so—” Jaemin had paused as his phone buzzed in his hands, and he quickly glanced down at the notification on-screen. “Oh, that’s right, I’m meeting up with my friend Jeno in the library. Wanna come, if you’re bored? He’ll speak Korean with you, too… although he’ll probably teach you all the slang and swear words first.”

_ Wanna come?  _ Just like that? Jisung was always envious at how easily it seemed to come to Jaemin. His every word was so genuine, his smile was so compelling. With only a second’s hesitation, Jisung agreed to tag along.

//

The train left Atlanta at nearly midnight. Seventeen hours, according to the schedule— he’d arrive at Penn Station in the evening, but until that moment, he’ll be on high alert, he knows it. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to sleep, honestly, and certainly not until he calls Jaemin and hears his voice.

Jaemin had sent him the phone in the mail, and it was a stroke of luck that Jisung had intercepted the package and smuggled it upstairs before his parents had seen it. It’s a simple little prepaid phone, something his parents have no hope of tracking, and so far he only has Jaemin’s number saved.

Jisung will never take contact with Jaemin for granted after an entire month without his cell phone. He can’t remember ever seeing his father so livid and disgusted, and he can still hear the way that the man screamed at him, like he was lower than a worm.  _ “No son of mine is going to embarrass our family this way.” _ How was it embarrassing, Jisung wanted to scream, that he’d found someone who made him feel  _ whole? _

Wiping his eyes quickly, before tears can manifest, he takes a deep breath and tries to center himself. He still has to call Jaemin. Knowing his boyfriend, he won’t be going to sleep until he hears that Jisung is safe and sound.

_ “Jisung!”  _ Jaemin’s answer is a sigh of relief, right off the bat, and it makes Jisung feel safe from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes.  _ “I was wondering when you’d call. Everything go okay?” _

“Yeah,” Jisung confirms softly. Luckily, the midnight train isn’t terribly crowded, and he has his seat to himself. “My parents know I sleep in. They might not even notice I’m gone until they get home from work this evening.”

_ “And by that time, you’ll be here!”  _ Jaemin’s voice is instantly lightened by the good news.  _ “I have to work, eight to four, but I’ll meet you at the station and we’ll go get dinner. Poor baby, you’ll probably be starving. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you on a plane on such short notice…” _

“That’s okay! It doesn’t matter to me, love, as long as I’m on my way to you.” Jisung leans his head against the cold window, watching the lights of the city that he’s leaving behind. Knowing that Jaemin is waiting for him at the end of his long trip, that’s more than enough. “I didn’t know you have to work at eight! Make sure you go to sleep soon, okay?”

_ “I’m not going to be able to sleep, are you kidding? I’m not going to be able to think about anything else for the next sixteen hours.” _

Normally, that’s Jisung’s role: second-guessing everything, eternally uncomfortable. But this time— just for Jaemin— he’ll just have to suck it up and be strong for the two of them. “I’m going to be there soon, and— and we can start our real lives together. We’ll get to be together every day, we’ll have an  _ apartment  _ together…”

Jaemin’s breath quivers.  _ He was crying, _ Jisung realizes, his heart skipping a beat. Jaemin  _ never _ cries, not over anything important (Disney movies not withstanding); twice in the span of a week is too much for Jisung to take, especially when he can’t be there to hug and console him.

“Jaemin—”

_ “Tell me about it. Living together. Tell me how absolutely fantastic it’s going to be.”  _ Jaemin says in a near-whisper. Jisung can almost  _ hear _ the smile in his tear-laden voice, and even from all this distance, it makes his stomach tickle.  _ “I don’t know if I can sleep tonight without your voice in my ear.” _

That, he can manage. He’s spent so many hours envisioning it, it’s like he’s already built the life for them in his head.

//

The flow from acquaintances to friends to boyfriends to  _ lovers  _ felt so natural and easy with Jaemin— and while plenty of moments feel important and special, only one feels truly pivotal. It wasn’t the first  _ I like you,  _ or the first date, or even the first kiss. (Though their first kiss  _ was  _ one for the books, standing in the sticky August heat of Jaemin’s apartment on the night that he returned for his sophomore year. He thought, naively, that he’d missed Jaemin the maximum amount possible over the summer vacation, not yet knowing what was to come.)

But no, the moment that sticks out the most in Jisung’s head happened in April of his sophomore year, when they’d been together just shy of eight months. Jisung’s roommate Chenle had wanted to go to a frat party, and while Jaemin had too much work to do in preparation for another arduous week of student teaching, he gave Jisung his blessing to go out and have fun with his friends.  _ Be safe,  _ he’d warned softly that afternoon, kissing Jisung on the forehead.  _ That’s all I ask of you. _

Jisung  _ was  _ safe, but he was also  _ drunk  _ by the end of the night, him and Chenle both. Just past midnight, despite being surrounded by friends and having a great time, he was hit with the overwhelming urge to call his boyfriend and tell him  _ how  _ great of a time he was having.

_ “I’m done with my lesson plans for the week. Why don’t you come to my place when you’re done and crash for the night? Better than walking all the way across campus to your dorm, right?” _

And so he’d ended up making his way to the townhouses where the seniors were permitted to live, climbing the familiar steps and letting himself inside; his memories were blurry, but he remembered Jaemin hugging him and kissing him, laughing at his unsteady steps in the same breath that he scolded Jisung for drinking so much. He remembered stumbling on his way upstairs to Jaemin’s room, he remembered being cold for a few moments while Jaemin struggled to help him change—

_ I love you,  _ he remembered saying, and he remembered Jaemin scoffing as he cuddled up to Jisung in his tiny little bed, pressed against his back and wrapped around him to keep him warm. _ You don’t love me, _ he’d insisted with a laugh. _ You’re just drunk. Go to sleep, drunkie. _

The next morning, Jisung woke up next to Jaemin— his eyes opened to Jaemin’s sleepy gaze, which crinkled up in a smile as Jisung blinked himself awake. He was hungover, but warm and cozy in his boyfriend’s pajamas, and the tenderness with which Jaemin reached to caress his cheek made him shiver without a single word.

And that was it, that was the singular moment in which Jisung knew— eight months into their relationship, he  _ needed  _ this person, and his life would never again be the same without him. He could suddenly see a life for them on the horizon, after Jaemin graduated: a house, a car, kids and a dog. Whether or not his parents agreed or supported him, it no longer really mattered. He could do without them, but without Jaemin, he’d be lost.

“Good m—”

“I love you, Jaemin. I really,  _ really  _ mean it.” He’d grabbed Jaemin’s hand to hold it there against his cheek, closing his eyes against the morning sunlight. “Maybe I’m being immature, maybe eight months is rushing things, but… I’m so happy. I never want this to end.”

Jaemin embraced Jisung silently, kissing his forehead, the arch of his eyebrow, the apple of his cheek. Jisung’s insides were a torrent of feelings, anxiety and excitement battling for control as he waited for Jaemin to speak. “I feel like when I say ‘I love you’ to a guy, that’s always when things tend to go wrong,” he admitted softly, finally settling with their foreheads pressed together and their noses bumping. “But— I think I do, too. I think I love you. God, this is scary, but I’ve never been this happy with another guy before…”

Jisung had a feeling it would be scary for Jaemin— he’d gotten hurt in the past, he’d let Jisung in vaguely on some of the stories. Other boyfriends had used and mistreated him, and Jisung simply couldn’t fathom that. Jaemin was so sunshine-bright, Jisung just wanted to give him what he needed to keep burning.

“Don’t be scared. I want to take care of you just like you take care of me.” Jisung’s hands slid down timidly from Jaemin’s shoulders to his chest to his waist, the air between them seeming to sparkle with energy.  _ He was so gentle with me last night— and another guy might have tried to take advantage, helping me change clothes, but he didn’t. I wonder if he’s waiting on me because he knows I’m a virgin.  _ The thought made him blush, and without thinking, he tugged Jaemin’s hips closer as he kissed him again, bold and insistent.  _ Feeling  _ him so close, already half-hard with the morning wood he’d probably woken up with— it felt  _ electric. _

It was the very first time they touched, and the memory still feels so erotic that Jisung hesitates to let his mind dwell on it there on the bus, lest he find himself in an  _ unfortunate  _ predicament. But that moment before, hearing the word  _ love,  _ it’s all Jisung needs to give him strength.  _ I think I love you, _ Jisung replays in his mind again and again, and he’s glad that there’s  _ somebody  _ that truly does.

//

Jisung is up for most of the night. He has nothing to do but look out the window and brace himself against the cramps in his thighs from sitting for so long. He doesn’t have headphones or anything to read, but he has memories of Jaemin that keep him going. Sharing hot chocolate at the campus coffee shop, piled high with whipped cream, and not feeling strange in the slightest when people glanced their way. Squeezing Jaemin  _ tight _ after the campus drag show and getting lipstick-kisses from him and Jeno, all over his cheeks. Spending weekends with Jaemin’s family, none of whom batted an eye when Jaemin introduced him as his boyfriend, and marveling at the notion of a family built on love instead of fear. He wants that, he’s always wanted that.

Finally, around 9 AM, he manages to close his eyes and sleep. When he wakes up, it’s almost 2 PM, and a passenger in front of him tells him they’re nearly to Washington D.C. He texts Jaemin the news, his hands trembling. His new life is, give or take, six hours away. With that, he’s back to sleeplessness, vibrating in his seat.

When he sees the city on the horizon, he can barely breathe. He calls Jaemin, and he fights not to scream with the excitement. Forty-five minutes, maybe more. Jaemin is already at the station, and he sounds like he’s crying again.

_ “Love you, baby. See you soon.” _

Jisung uses his phone camera to look at his face. He still looks like he’s been beaten, and there’s nothing he can do about that, but he naively hopes that Jaemin doesn’t notice. He practices smiling bright enough to offset his purple cheek and his swollen eye.

Jaemin will notice, but he’ll call him beautiful anyway. Jisung is confident.

Then the train stops, and the doors open. Jisung scrambles so quickly to disembark that he nearly forgets his suitcase containing every item he currently owns. His legs don’t feel like his own, his mind is dizzy from lack of sleep. He won’t feel okay until Jaemin hugs him and hopefully never lets go.

The station is crowded, and at first Jisung doesn’t see him. Jisung told him earlier that he’s wearing a white shirt and a red tie, still dressed from the classroom, and every flash of red makes Jisung’s heart race.

Finally, he sees him, and nothing else matters. If Jaemin is startled by his face, or scared, or uncomfortable, it doesn’t show— he’s wearing that smile that made Jisung fall in love in the first place, and Jisung nearly chokes on his tears as he runs to him and lets Jaemin’s arms swallow him up in their infinite love.

“I missed you! I missed you so much, Jisung, I seriously felt like I wasn’t going to see you ever again—” Jaemin kisses his good cheek,  _ hard,  _ and despite his stiffness and exhaustion, Jisung lifts him up and squeezes him tight. Some people look, but most of them are smiling, not jeering, because they all live in New York City and this is  _ far  _ from the strangest thing they’ve seen even today. “But now we can see each other  _ forever.  _ Don’t go anywhere, Jisung. Promise me.”

Jisung laughs, deliriously, and kisses him back, not caring who sees. “Now we can see each other forever,” he repeats, and it feels like a dream.

Jisung is only twenty, and it’s been less than a year together. His mother has stressed the point again and again that he couldn’t possibly know what he wants, and maybe he  _ doesn’t  _ know entirely, but he knows that he  _ belongs  _ here. And that’s enough. He’ll figure out the rest later, but for now, all he wants is to belong.


End file.
